


Penguins in Love

by c00kie



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Penguins, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie/pseuds/c00kie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Ben draws on Leslie, they’re waiting for the bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penguins in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Another originally posted on tumblr fic! Thank you for reading.

The first time Ben draws on Leslie, they’re waiting for the bus. She’s sitting on the ledge that separates Ms. Poutine’s sloped yard from the sidewalk, feet dangling while she flips the pages of her book and tries not to eavesdrop on Ann and her new boyfriend of the week, but it’s very difficult not to snort when he’s asking her if she wants to go to the rodeo with him.

It’s even harder when Ann says yes. 

She keeps reading though, only occasionally looking up to watch Ann. And if her eyes flicker over to where a group of guys are standing in what almost appears to be a huddle to look at Ben Wyatt’s butt, well.

But of course he turns around, as if he senses her eyes on his backside and smiles. Except it’s not quite a smile, it’s more a I know you have a giant crush on me smirk. And it should infuriate her, but his dumb face makes it impossible to even get mad.

She does however, look away. Yes, she has a crush, but she’s not going to do anything about it.

Except, he comes over and sits next to her, brushing dry leaves off before he hops on. “Hi, Leslie.”

“Hi.”

“So, that presentation you did last week was really great.”

Leslie feels her cheeks burn as the compliment sinks into her skin, warming her through. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

They sit in silence for minute, but of them kicking the ledge in the same left foot, right foot, right foot, left foot pattern until Ben reaches into his bag and pulls out his pen. “Give me your arm.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, I want to draw something on your hand.”

“Is it that stupid pen15 club joke because I fell for that once and it really wasn’t that funny.”

Ben laughs, giving her a look like he can’t believe she fell for that. “No. I promise.”

He appears to be sincere enough, and if he writes something gross she can always wash it off. “Okay. Nothing bad.”

“Nothing bad,” he says, pushing the pen down on her hand, ink appearing as he runs it over skin and bones. She watches as a tiny penguin appears, holding up one wing as if waving, the other holding a briefcase.

“Why is he holding a briefcase?” she asks while he draws a tie.

“Because he’s a business penguin,” Ben answers as if it should be obvious. Leslie laughs and for moment their eyes meet and she swears his eyes dart to her lips but then someone yells, “Bus!” and the spell is broken.

The second time, they’re on a field trip to the Indiana statehouse and through some kind of strange luck, they’re sitting beside each other on the bus. The seats are small, and even though Ben’s slender, there’s still barely any space between them. She distracts herself by staring out the window to watch the cornfields and churches fly by but it’s still an hour’s drive to Indianapolis and she doesn’t know how much she can take.

“So, Mr. Flipperson came off.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mr. Flipperson,” Ben says again, pointing to her hand. “he came off.”

“Oh you mean the penguin? Yeah. Wait, did you just call him Mr. Flipperson? why not Ms. Flipperson?”

“Because it was a boy. He was wearing a tie and carrying a briefcase.”

“Oh, so girls can’t wear ties and carry briefcases?” Leslie asks, giving Ben her best indignant expression. Ben just laughs and reaches down into his bag to pull out a pen.

“Tell you what, this time I’ll draw a girl penguin.” He shifts so he’s facing her, his knee pressing against hers as he takes her hand. “Okay?”

God she wishes Ann was on this trip too. “Okay. Can she have a hat with a flower in it?”

“You got it.”

The third time, he doesn’t draw one penguin, but two, Mr. Flipperson and his wife Ms. Krill. “Wow. They’re really progressive.”

“They are,” Ben says, drawing the daisy on Ms. Krill’s hat. “Should they have a baby or do you think they’re both concentrating on their careers right now?”

“I think they’re talking about it,” Leslie says, “but they haven’t quite made the decision to start a family yet.”

Ben smiles back at her, making her heart skip.

“Bus!”

The fourth time, Leslie thinks to take a picture.

The fifth time is at debate club while they listen to the daily topic. Leslie’s listening intently when Ben takes her hand and starts drawing, not bothering to ask for permission. She only glances over once, but it’s not until he’s finished that she actually really looks at what they’re doing. “Are they ice skating?”

“Yep,” he says, hopping up to his feet when the teacher calls his name to do a mini debate with Kelly Larson. She looks down at her hand, seeing Ms. Krill do a spin while Mr. Flipperson watches her with what appears to be look of admiration.

The eighth time is at Tom’s party. Usually Leslie loves parties but the past week has been stressful with three tests, a major book report and a ten page paper due, and Ann’s somewhere making out with her latest boyfriend and really she wishes she was at home, watching "Friends."

And then Ben falls down on the couch next to her. “This party sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Ben studies her for a moment before pulling a pen out of his pocket. She gives him her hand without waiting for him to ask for it. Since inventing Mr. Flipperson and Ms. Krill, Ben’s drawn them doing everything from giving each other pebbles to dancing the hula to their son, Eggo, hatching.

But the thing is, aside from these moments and the occasional smile during class, they don’t really interact. So no matter how much Ann insists Ben likes her, Leslie really can’t believe it.

“Hey, we’re playing spin the bottle.”

“Are we in an eighties rom-com?” Ben asks, raising his eyebrow.

Jen just shrugs. “You in or not?”

Leslie can’t breathe and it’s not because of Ben going to play, or even the thought of playing herself, although she’s pretty sure it’s a good way to get mono, but rather because he’s still holding her hand and his thumb is rubbing circles into her skin.

“Maybe later,” Ben says, turning his attention back to Leslie’s hand. “I gotta finish this.”

It takes a few moments after Jen leaves for Leslie to relax completely. Ben though, seems completely nonplussed as he draws. Noticing how they’re beaks are touching, Leslie asks, “Are they kissing?”

“Yep.”

Even though Leslie’s only had water to drink, she feels like the one time she had a strawberry daiquiri, all warm and fuzzy. When he stops, declaring he’s finished, he doesn’t let go of her hand. For a second she thinks he might kiss her, but then the alarm on her watch goes off and she’s forced to pull away to turn it off.

“Curfew,” she says, standing up. “I should go find Ann.”

“Right. Do you need a ride? I have my mom’s car.”

“Oh. Thanks, But Ann’s my ride. She borrowed her sister’s car.”

“Ah.”

“Okay well, um, bye I guess.” Leslie doesn’t know why she can’t move, but then Ben raises his eyebrow and sort of chuckles and she hurries away before she does something stupid like kiss his face.

The next time they’re waiting for the bus again. It’s the last day of school before winter break and it’s snowing and everyone is bundled and Leslie’s fingers are numb and she couldn’t find her ear muffs and her hat doesn’t quite cover her ears so they’re very cold and Ann stayed home sick so things are not looking great for Leslie Knope.

Ben doesn’t come over to her. He smiles and gives her a wave, but he continues to talk to his friends while she continues to freeze to death.

It’s possible she’s being a little over dramatic. 

When the bus comes, Leslie sits in her usual seat, but she’s surprised with Ben drops down next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Ann’s not here, right?”

Leslie’s confusion is not over him sitting in Ann’s seat but rather him sitting next to her at all. “No. But you usually sit in back.”

“I wasn’t aware there was assigned seating,” Ben says smirking again. “I can move.”

“No, don’t.” It probably comes out too quickly, but he just smiles.

“Give me your hand,” he says.

She does, letting him peel off her glove. Then she watches as he pops the cap off of his ballpoint pen and presses the tip to her skin. There are still faint lines left from the last few times, and she wonders if they are all she’s going to have as proof that any of this happened. Because eventually, Ben’s going to get bored or find a girlfriend and Leslie will have nothing but the ink on her hand.

She should have taken pictures. She curses herself for not thinking of it sooner, but vows to start taking them as long as he keeps drawing on her.

He draws them sitting on a blanket underneath a tree. Near her knuckles he draws a sun, its rays going up her fingers.

“To keep you from being cold,” he says.

Leslie wills the butterflies in her stomach to stop and all she can do smile softly and say, “Thank you.”

He grins and bumps her shoulder with his. “So what are you doing for break?”

“Nothing special. You?”

“Going to Minnesota to visit my dad. He’s got a new girlfriend so that should be fun.”

“Oh. My mom’s boyfriend is pretty nice. He makes good enchiladas.”

“That’s good. I’d hate for you to have to deal with an asshole. My mom was with an asshole for awhile but then they got divorced and now everything’s great.”

“Really?”

“No. They’re not allowed in the same room.”

“Oh. My parents were crazy about each other.”

“That’s good,” Ben replies with a small laugh. “Mine are just crazy.”

The bus pulls up to the school and stops, the doors opening. Ben stands, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in History, Leslie.”

“Bye.”

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to her on the bleachers as the classes gather for an assembly. She’s surprised to see him, it’s been almost a month since their last encounter, leaving Leslie to conclude he lost interest. “So what are we learning about this time? Smoking? Drugs? Kennedy’s Assassination?”

“It was fascinating the first five times, I bet it’ll be just as riveting this time,” Leslie says, earning a chuckle.

“Yeah.”

Someone shouts Ben’s name and Leslie can’t help but look over with him to see his friend Barney waving and gesturing for him to go over. Ben just shakes his head though.

“You’re not going to sit next to your friend?”

“I am sitting next to my friend,” Ben says, and Leslie’s both elated at being called his friend and disappointed for the very same reason. Still, she smiles and the moment he pulls out his pen, she gives him her hand.

“So,” he says as he starts, “I heard from someone who heard from another someone that tomorrow is your birthday.” 

“It is.” Leslie says. “My birthday fell on a Saturday this year, lucky me.”

“You are lucky. Mine’s on a Tuesday.” 

Next to Leslie, Ann flips her magazine and coughs. Ann keeps saying she needs to make a move, but even if Leslie wanted to, it doesn’t change the fact that Ben has a very specific type and she does not qualify. The last thing Leslie wants is to hear him say he only likes her as a friend, which he pretty much just did.

In her imagination, this statement is further punctuated by him kissing a tall brunette.

“Done,” he says and she looks at Mr. Flipperson and Ms. Krill in their party hats and laughs. “You like it?”

“I love it.” I love you.

He doesn’t draw on her every day, and there’s really no rhyme or reason for when he does, or what he draws the penguins doing. Usually they talk, but there’s one morning when Ben draws the penguins break dancing in complete silence and all Leslie can do is watch as the lines appear on her skin. She doesn’t look at his face, too afraid that if he looks back at her, he will see the truth and never want to touch her again.

“You really need to stop pining over him.”

“I know, and shhh!” Ben’s only a few seats away, he could hear them.

Ann rolls her eyes. “Leslie come on. Just go up to him and say you love him and then kiss his face off.”

Leslie wants nothing more than to do just that, but she just shakes her head. They’re friends. That has to be enough.

It’s a Sunday afternoon in the beginning of February when Leslie finds herself on a swing in Ramsett Park. Snow is beginning to fall but she can’t make herself get up yet. Instead she just watches the flakes as they fall around her and tries to catch one on her tongue. She hears footsteps and looks up, expecting to see just some random passerby, but instead she sees Ben, dressed in a nice black coat with the collar popped up, snow peppering his dark hair. He sees her and she figures he’s just going to wave and go by, but he walks to her.

“You know it’s snowing right?”

“I know.”

Ben brushes the snow off the swing next to her and sits down. “So what’s got my favorite girl all blue? Seriously, your fingers are turning blue you should go home. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The combination of being called his favorite girl, being cold and Ben offering to walk her home sends her heart into overdrive. She hops up and hooks her arm through his when he offers and they begin walking.

“Today's the day my dad died, ” she says, “I came here to be sad.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to tell. He was driving and there was a patch of ice and he slid off the road into a tree. He’s buried in Florida because that’s where he was from and he loved it but I wish I could go see him, you know? But I can’t so I come to the park and sit on my favorite swing. He used to push me and joke about how he was going to push me as high as the moon. Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“Yeah, but I like it.”

Leslie smiles grateful, and she continues telling Ben about her dad until they reach her house. “You can come in if you want, I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“I can’t say no to that.”

Leslie’s mom isn’t home. She’s at book club but Leslie figures she won’t mind if she has a boy in her house as long as they’re just hanging out in the kitchen. They stomp off the snow from the shoes before going inside, and Leslie hangs up their coats before they go into the kitchen.

“Do you like marshmallows?”

“Of course.”

“I just wanted to make sure. Because if you didn’t this could mean the end of our friendship.”

“Right. I wouldn’t want that.”

Leslie smiles back and as she makes the beverage, she and Ben exchange small talk about school. She thinks about asking about his love life, but that might result in them talking about hers and that isn’t a chance she wants to take.

When the hot chocolate is done, she pours them into two cups and adds marshmallows and whipped cream to hers.

“I like whipped cream.”

Leslie’s breath stops for a second. She can’t even speak, she can only spray some of the whipped cream into his cup. When she brings them to the table, she sees a pen on the table that she knows wasn’t there before. She smiles and sits down, but decides not to mention it until he does.

She’s halfway through her cup when he takes her hand and brings it closer to him. She can’t help the sigh that escapes her at the way his fingers graze her skin or the intense look of concentration on his face as he opens the pen and starts drawing, pausing only to take a sip.

And as she sees the swing set and Ms.Krill sitting on one of the seats with Mr. Flipperson behind her, fins out to push her, she starts crying again.

“Oh no, don’t do that. I can do something else, go wash your hand or i can do something on your other it’s okay.” Leslie throws herself at him, wrapping her arm around his neck and sobbing into his neck.

He brings her closer, hands rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping his shirt.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m going to be sad when this one washes off. Wait, hold on,” she says getting the idea to show Ben the pictures. She runs up to her room and collects the shoe box she’s keeping them in and then joins him back in the kitchen. “I’m going to put them in a scrapbook and unfortunately I don’t have pictures of the first few.”

“Too bad, that was some of my best work,” Ben says, looking through them. “Although I think this one is my favorite.”

“The one where he’s Han Solo is your favorite? I always pictured you as more of a Luke guy.”

“Yeah, but Solo gets the girl.”

Leslie doesn’t know what to say, but she’s rescued by her mom, who upon seeing Ben says, “Hello, sweetheart and strange boy in my kitchen.”

“Hi. I'm Ben Wyatt.”

Leslie prays her mom won’t murder him and her, but she doesn’t. “I was thinking spaghetti for dinner. Ben, do you wish to stay?”

He glances at her, silently asking if it’s okay. She nods yes. “I’d love to, thanks.”

On Valentines day, Ben silently walks up to her, takes off her glove and draws a heart with Mr. Flipperson and Ms. Krill sitting on the top, holding fins, their feet crossed over the others. When he’s done, she thinks Ben is going to say, “Have a good day, Leslie,” and walk away, but he doesn’t. He just reaches up and cups her face, and even though she knows he’s about to kiss her, she still doesn’t feel ready when his lips press against hers. Somewhere in the distance she hears someone shout at them, but she’s too busy tasting the peppermint on his lips to care.

Eventually though, Ben pulls away, smiling. Someone shouts his name and he looks over at his shoulder at his friend before turning back to Leslie, who still feels like she’s been spun around and now the world is falling beneath her.

“What was that?”

“I know you know what a kiss is, Leslie.”

“Why?” It’s such a stupid question, but Ben doesn’t seem upset by it.

“Because at first I thought you were being deliberately obtuse, but then I realized you really didn’t know how much I like you. So I’m making sure you know.”

Just like that, everything clicks together and all of her doubts about Ben liking her completely goes away. “Oh.” She feigns a shrug. “Well, I mean I think I get it, but just to make sure-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.


End file.
